


Lean On Me

by SakuraWindChime



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Depression, Established Relationship, Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medication, Minor Character Death, Near Future, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Post-Anime, Sexual Content, Smut, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:05:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9172483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakuraWindChime/pseuds/SakuraWindChime
Summary: It had been a year since Viktor, the Viktor Nikiforov who was a five-time world figure skating champion, had made his wildest dreams come true and became Yuuri’s fiancé.It had been almost a year since Yuuri won silver at the Grand Prix Final, Viktor had promised to be his coach and a fellow competitor, and… his Russian namesake Yuri Plisetsky had threatened to rip his legs off if he ever thought about retiring before he skated a perfect performance.And, it had been two months since Yuuri had a break down and suffered from the worst panic attack he has ever had.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a year since Viktor, _the_ Viktor Nikiforov who was a five-time world figure skating champion, had made his wildest dreams come true and became Yuuri’s fiancé.

It had been almost a year since Yuuri won silver at the Grand Prix Final, Viktor had promised to be his coach and a fellow competitor, and… his Russian namesake Yuri Plisetsky had threatened to rip his legs off if he ever thought about retiring before he skated a perfect performance.

The year of practicing in St. Petersburg alongside Viktor and Yuri, and under the guidance of the prima ballerina Lilia Baranovskaya and coach Yakov Feltsman had been one of the best of his life. Yuuri had never felt more inspired, more in love, or more confident in his own skating than the time he had spent in Russia. Yuuri, Viktor, and Yuri breezed through the qualifiers of the past year, the three of them dominating the podium and becoming known throughout the ice skating world as the ‘Three Kings’. Never had Yuuri felt so alive.

 

* * *

 

 

The Grand-Prix Final was only three weeks away and Yuuri felt invigorated after seeing what Viktor had choreographed for his performance. Upon seeing his new program as a beautiful addition to this year’s theme of ‘Life’, Yuuri had immediately skated over to his fiancé, wrapping him into a huge bear hug and kissing him with the life he was filled with.

Much to the disgust of Yuri, who had returned from the locker room after gathering his belongings to leave for the day. “Get a room!” The blond shouted from outside the ice rink, walking alongside Lilia and Yakov.

Viktor and Yuuri were very used to Yuri’s outbursts at their public affection, usually ignoring the angry kitten, but it seemed that today Viktor was in a playful mood.

A wide grin split the older skater’s face. “What’s the matter, Yurio? Haven’t you and Otabek come this far yet?”

The expression on Yuri’s face was priceless. “I… We..-” Yuri spluttered, self-control lost. “Shut up, Vitya. It’s none of your damned business,” he shot, sticking up his middle finger while his cheeks flushed red.

Yuuri’s own ears tinged crimson in second hand embarrassment for the teenager as he watched the blond stalk out of the rink space. Viktor chuckled, drawing the Japanese skater’s attention back to the man in front of him. Blue eyes winked at him and he swooned.

 _I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that_ , Yuuri thought breathlessly.

Taken by the adorable blush on Yuuri’s face, Viktor swooped down and placed a chaste kiss on the man’s lips. But, he drew away as quickly as he arrived, leaving Yuuri blinking with a soft gaze and a smile full of love. He was so, so lucky.

The pair glided to the barrier holding hands and exited the ice rink. Yuuri’s veins were pumped with exhilaration and excitement in his anticipation of returning to the ice the next day to begin learning his new dance. Skates off, glasses returned to his face, and jacket shrugged on, he followed their skating group out of the building, chatter bubbling around them as they decided on a place to eat, in celebration of their final practice together before they began their separate practices tomorrow to prepare for the Final.

Vibrations rumbled through Yuuri’s jacket pocket and he quickly scrambled to retrieve his phone before the call reached voicemail. Surprise registered on the man’s features as he read the caller ID as being his father.

 _Strange… Normally Mum is the one to call_.

Feeling unease rise in his chest, Yuuri fell a couple of steps behind the group and answered the ringing. “Hello?”

Viktor flickered his attention to Yuuri upon hearing the Japanese phone greeting, escaping the notice of the dark-haired man, while still contributing to the conversation he was having with Yakov but curious as to who called his fiancé.

“Yuuri,” his father breathed down the connection, voice tight. “My son,” he spoke in a choked out sob.

Yuuri stopped abruptly in his tracks, cold fear blossoming in his chest. The sudden action alerted Viktor, his focus faded away from Yakov, worry seeping into his features.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” Yuuri spoke in Japanese, panicked.

His father cried down the phone. His father never cried. “It’s Mari, your sister,” his father spoke faster, as if he feared he would not be able to speak if he did not. “She’s been in an accident on her motorbike, she collided with a car on the main road leading into Hasetsu. She… She,” he sobbed, as numbness swept through Yuuri’s body at his father’s words already sensing what was coming. “Mari died on impact…”

Yuuri’s phone clattered to the ground, dizziness washed through him and his body teetered, knees giving way. Viktor rushed toward him, catching him at his chest, arms bracing him before his body hit the ground. The silver-haired man lowered them both to the ground slowly, as he heard the rest of the group coming to a stop behind them asking what was wrong.

“Yuuri,” Viktor spoke urgently, worry laced his tone, as he peered into the unseeing brown eyes. “Yuuri! What’s happened?” The man gave his partner a small shake of the shoulders.

Tears spilled out of Yuuri’s eyes, streaming down his cheeks. He was mumbling the same word over and over. Viktor struggled to hear the Japanese, but he thought he recognised it as the word for sister.

“Your sister?” Viktor probed, hoping it would encourage Yuuri to speak.

At his words, Yuuri’s gaze snapped to Viktor’s, his brown eyes locked onto blue. His slack expression contorted into misery as a sob escaped the confines of his throat.

“Mari…” Yuuri rasped, voice contorted with emotional pain. “Mari has died,” he cried, bringing his hands to cover his face in his grief.

Viktor’s eyes widened, as the group behind him emitted sounds of shock and sympathy. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s shaking frame and pulled him into a tight hug. Yuuri buried his face into the crook of Viktor’s neck, as Viktor brought his hand up to cradle his head. They sat on the cold concrete on the street, as Viktor whispered soothing words into Yuuri’s ear which the younger man desperately tried to hold onto but they slipped away with his grief.

Yuuri’s paradise had come crashing down and crumbled away from his grasp.

 

* * *

 

 

The next three weeks went by in a miserable haze. Yuuri and Viktor had boarded the next available flight from Russia to Japan, barely a word uttered from Yuuri as Viktor continually talked about nonsense and showed him trash on the internet. He tried to keep his fiancé as stable as he could until they had at least reached the comfort of his parents. The pair arrived at the Katsuki family home in Hasetsu the afternoon following the deliverance of the heart breaking news, melancholy thick in the air. Yuuri and his mother had wept in each other’s arms until the mother and son fell into an exhausted sleep on the sofa, Yuuri’s father had lovingly draped a blanket over them to keep them warm and Viktor left the room quietly to ascend into Yuuri’s bedroom to sleep alone, leaving them in their embrace.

The wake and funeral were beautiful ceremonies in celebration of Mari’s memory, people flocked from the around the town of Hasetsu to pay their deepest respects, light incense, and lay flowers. Yuuri handled the entire ceremony wonderfully, voice only cracking with tears spilling when he made his speech full of loving memories about his sister to those who had gathered. Viktor never left the dark-haired man’s side, arms wrapped around Yuuri’s shoulder or waist as the younger leaned into the comforting embrace and sought strength from his fiancé. Even Viktor spoke, as he recalled fondly of how Mari gave Russian Yuri the nickname ‘Yurio’, and they have never stopped using it since. This earned a tearful laugh from Yuuri.

A day after the ceremony, Yuuri had woken up early for his morning run, woke Viktor after, and took them to the Ice Castle for the first time since they had arrived back in Hasetsu to begin practice for the Grand Prix Final. Viktor worried about Yuuri over the two weeks leading up to the Final, concerned that the dark-haired man had not given himself enough time to grieve before heading into an environment that caused him so much stress. But, Viktor reasoned with himself that whenever the younger figure skater was upset he had always sought to seek solace on the ice. Why should he have stopped him if the ice and the competition helped him to move on?

They had flown back to Russia a couple of days before the Final, as it was on Viktor and Yuri’s home turf that the last leg of competition was being held. The departure of Yuuri from his parents had been tearful, wishing that they could have gone with him, but they needed to run the onsen.

And, now it was a couple of minutes before Yuuri was due to skate his Short Program. The dark-haired figure skater was shaking, his nerves in shatters. Yuuri had been determined to master the wonderful new program Viktor had choreographed for him just before…

 _No_. He told himself firmly, shaking his head roughly to get rid of the thought before it seeped to his core. He needed to have a clear mind before he went out to the ice. He was going to live up to everyone’s expectations.

A warm hand rubbed soothing circles on his lower back, helping him calm his nerves. Yuuri looked up to Viktor, who was sending him a warm smile that did not reach his eyes. Those blue eyes were filled with worry as they stared at him, like they normally were in recent weeks. He did not want to make the love of his life worry anymore.

Yuuri ripped his gaze away from Viktor as he heard the applause of the crowd indicating that the skater before him had finished their performance. Who was before him again? He did not even know… He needed to concentrate! The man heaved a sigh, moving to remove the blade guards from his skates and unzipped his jacket emblazoned with ‘Japan’ to take it off and hand to Viktor. Underneath revealed a royal blue costume, with long tulle cuffs of a lighter blue, decorated with diamante in the details of waves that glistened under the rink show lights. He stepped through the gap in the barrier onto the ice, but before he could skate off, Yuuri’s wrist was grabbed to pull him back and he turned into the arms of Viktor.

The silver-haired man lowered his head to Yuuri’s ear. “You are beautiful, Yuuri Katsuki,” he breathed and released him, stepping back, loving eyes trained on him.

The simple words propelled warmth through Yuuri; his love for Viktor steeling his nerves and giving him life. The figure skater turned and glided to the centre of the ice rink.

“Take my breath away!” Viktor shouted after him, as Yuuri set himself to his starting position.

People cheered around him. Music poured into the arena and silence swept across the audience in baited breath for the competitor to start. The stunning piano piece of _River Flows In You_ by Yiruma coursed through Yuuri’s body, moving him through his program as the notes swelled to fill the atmosphere. He felt light and graceful as he glided along the ice and landed his quads perfectly in time with the music, drawing cheers and applause from the crowd that surrounded him.

Yuuri was about to enter the second half of the program, where the piano piece reached its fullest, and he spun in tight turns which his body knew from years of ballet training. Letting his body take the momentum of the spins, Yuuri glanced into the audience and caught sight of the familiar figure of Minako sat a few rows up from the rink holding up her ‘Katsuki Yuuri’ banner she always came to his performances with. There was something not quite right with what he saw. Yuuri entered into his last spin, searching the spot around Minako and tried to put his finger one what was _so_ wrong with what he saw. Something was missing. He stopped spinning, lifted his leg to do a small step jump and built up momentum to enter a quadruple Salchow. No, not something… There was _someone_ missing. Yuuri kicked off the ice, pulling his arms into his body and entered the Salchow. His mind was quiet for a moment, trying to grasp at what he knew deep down.

 _Mari… She was going to be here_.

Grief slammed into him and poured ice through his veins. Yuuri lost his concentration in the mid twists of his Salchow, breath choked out, his centre of balance jeopardised as his mind disconnected with reality. The skater’s body crashed into the hard, slick surface of the ice with the fast momentum from his quad and Yuuri cried out from pain. The breath was knocked out of his lungs, as he tried to drag in air against his intense emotions and spasms of pain from his knees and arms. Gasps were heard throughout the crowd as his musical piece continued to play through the sound system. Yuuri laid against the ice, unable to move. Time trickled by too quickly before the remainder of his skate would be cut off and he would lose. But, Yuuri could not get up, too overcome by his mind and fearing that he had damaged his body too much to continue skating.

“Get up, Yuuri!” He heard Yuri shout at him from the edge of the rink, the voice usually filled with annoyance instead woven with fear for the other snapped him back to focus on the white ice in front of him.

Tears brimmed his eyes, spilling over as Yuuri pulled his arms under himself to brace against the ice and pulled his body up. Testing his legs, the skater balanced himself on his blades once again, body heavy and screaming in agony from the fall but very surprised that he had not sprained or broken anything. People cheered around Yuuri at his revival, as he pushed off to continue the Short Program no longer feeling any of the life that the dark-haired man was supposed to embody.

There was absolutely no way that Yuuri was going to reach the podium, not even after all of the scores he had racked up until now. A skater who falls, does not get up straight away and has to cut most of the second half of their program cannot possibly score high enough to be near the podium. The Free Skate the next day could help redeem himself, but… Everyone was going to be disappointed in him. Again. Oh God, what was Viktor going to say? He was not even the one to call out to the fallen man, it was Yuri. He would not be able to look his fiancé, his coach, in the eye when he finished.

The music slowed to a dying end and Yuuri held his finishing position. People cheered and applauded, but it must have been out of pity. That was the worst program Yuuri had ever skated. There was no point in lying to make himself feel better.

At least Mari did not have to witness that…

 _One less person to disappoint_ , Yuuri thought bitterly.

Yuuri’s breath hitched, a dull ache forming across his chest. Fresh tears broke their banks and left cold trails down his cheeks. The man skated toward the exit of the rink, keeping his eyes to the slippery floor. Before he reached the exit, a tall figure bundled into him and wrapped their arms around him tightly.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor breathed, voice brimmed with concern. The taller man pulled away slightly to peer at his fiancé’s face, hands gripping his shoulders tightly. “Yuuri,” he spoke more urgently and Yuuri complied to his pleas.

The absolute heartbreak he felt must have been plain on his features for the whole world to see, because as he lifted his gaze to level with Viktor’s beautiful blue the man immediately wrenched him into another back breaking hug. It was as if Viktor felt like Yuuri would fall into pieces if the man did not hold him tight enough together.

“You’re okay. You’ll be okay,” Viktor cooed. “You can earn the points back tomorrow in your Free Skate.”

Yuuri nodded into Viktor’s neck, breathing in his scent in an effort to placate the ache in his chest that had become more prominent. After another squeeze, Viktor moved out of the hug and to his side, sliding one hand down Yuuri’s right arm so that he could steer the younger skater off the ice while the other arm supported him from the back. The pair walked over to the Kiss and Cry and sat on the bench there to await the results Yuuri would do anything but hear. Though, he had to stay for the TV camera’s sake.

The ache inside Yuuri’s chest swelled painfully, his breathing quickly becoming heavy. Oh no… He knew where this was leading. Please, he did not need to have an attack now. Viktor’s hand slipped from its grasp on his elbow as Yuuri moved to grapple with the clothing covering his chest.

“The scores are coming in for Yuuri Katsuki’s Short Program,” the commentator spoke over the speakers.

“Yuuri, you’re bleeding.” Panic laced Viktor’s tone.

Yuuri cast his unfocused gaze from the floor to the silver-haired man. Worry sculpted the man’s features.

“Huh?” Yuuri replied dazed, dizziness beginning to edge at his focus.

Viktor flickered his gaze from Yuuri to his hand held out in front of him. Yuuri peered down at it, vision blurring and still clutching at his chest. Red was smeared over Viktor’s pale palm.

“You’re bleeding! We need to get you to the infirmary,” Viktor spoke hurriedly. “Your fall must have broken the skin…”

_Oh. When did that get there?_

“And Katsuki places fourth on the score board, but with Yuri Plisetsky and Viktor…”

The commentator’s reporting and Viktor’s voice faded out of Yuuri’s hearing, as his breathing became more ragged. Each breath more effort than the last. He needed to get out of here. He could not let Viktor see him break down before his skate. He had already ruined Viktor’s reputation as a coach, but he would be damned if he ruined Viktor’s figure skating career as well. It would be just another addition to his list of failures. Another thing for Mari to be disappointed with where ever she was.

Yuuri stood up abruptly, teetering on his shielded skates as his head swam. He was breathing so heavily, one gasp after another.

“Yuuri?”

The atmosphere was so thick. There were too many people. They were all staring, watching him freak out. He needed to get out of there. He bolted.

“Yuuri!”

He heard Viktor shouting after him, then voices moulded into each other. He could not do it. Reporters and journalists blocked Yuuri’s escape, wanting to hear his thoughts on his failures. There were too many people. It was too hot. Too loud.

_Go away!_

Breaths scraped into his throat, his chest constricting painfully. He clawed at his chest as he stumbled down the hallway and round a corner. Sparks scattered his vision, disorientating him and making it harder for him to see. All he heard was his desperate breathing.

 _Cleaning cupboard_ , Yuuri barely read.

Door opened, he fell in and slumped down the wall adjacent to the door that he pushed shut behind him. Yuuri ripped at the open V-neck of his skating costume, willing more air into his burning lungs as he tried desperately to regulate his attack.

 _Please_.

Yuuri’s head swam to a point where he could no longer support his heavy head. His vision sparked brighter and he gasped louder. Yuuri’s eyes slid shut, willing it all to go away, and he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, please don't hate me! This is how I show my love >.<
> 
> But, seriously, let me know what you think? :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Vitya, calm down!” Yakov gritted out lowly in Viktor’s ear.
> 
> “He was hurt,” Viktor continued to struggle, distraught. “He needs my help!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for the wonderful response you guys gave the first chapter! I am so grateful and happy that you all enjoyed it - it's the best response I have ever had for a fanfic <3

**Chapter Two**

Yuri Plisetsky’s music piece exploded into the space of the ice rink, as he began his Short Program. The dramatic change in tone from Yuuri’s previous skate electrified the atmosphere.

“Yuuri!” Viktor screamed, moving to chase after the dark-haired skater. Fully prepared to push anyone out of his way to get to him.

Yakov had to act fast before Viktor ruined his chance in the competition from a fit of impassioned actions. The coach grabbed him firmly and the silver-haired man instantly fought back, squirming with all of his strength to break out of the man’s clenched arms.

“Vitya, calm down!” Yakov gritted out lowly in Viktor’s ear.

“He was hurt,” Viktor continued to struggle, distraught. “He needs my help!” His voice was edging on hysteric.

“What he needs is for you to stop screaming and making a scene. How do you think Yuuri will react when he sees your reckless behaviour plastered all over the tabloids?” The coach tried to reason, marvelling at the amount of strength he needed to keep his student in place.

Viktor slackened in his fight for a moment, considering Yakov’s words. In the window of opportunity, Yakov took his chance to gain the upper hand in the situation. The older Russian pulled his weight and almost threw Viktor toward the skating rink, away from the competitor’s exit from the rink, causing him to stumble.

Yakov breathed heavier than he would have liked from the scuffle. He was not as young as he used to be.

“Why did he run off? I could’ve helped him.” Viktor spoke, his voice breaking toward the end.

The coach whipped his gaze to Viktor’s face. He watched as the blue eyes of the skater before him filled with tears, looking as though he was going to fall apart. Damn, these young, emotional skaters were going to be the death of older man.

It was time for Yakov to perform his other role as a coach. That being not of a teacher, but as a motivator and mentor. The kind of lines that were significantly blurred with the coach and skater relationship between Yuuri and Viktor. The older man needed to bring Viktor out of his emotional wreckage and back into being a competitor. His focus needed to be changed.

“Our Yura is out there on the ice about to reach the best part of his routine. You need to go and support your fellow competitor and then do your own skate.” Yakov was stern, with no room for argument.

“But-”

“No, Vitya.” Of course the man had to argue; he was never one to follow his coach’s advice. “The last thing your Yuuri wants is for you to flub your skate and not reach the podium either.”

A tear slid down Viktor’s face. “I can’t leave him like that,” he choked.  

Yakov sighed, tone softening. “I know how you feel, but you’re going to have to clear your head and complete your Short Program. I’ll make sure that Yuuri gets to the infirmary and you can come and meet us as soon as you’re done.”

Viktor snapped his gaze from the floor up to Yakov suddenly, like he had not expected him to say those words. The silver-haired man taken aback by the sudden care in Yakov’s voice, the man visibly deflating. Yakov was not a cold hearted man, even though he could be harsh sometimes. Well, most of the time. But, he genuinely cared for the skaters under his unwavering watch and he wanted to look out for them in the best way he could.

“Go and get that blood washed off and get on the ice.” The older man ordered. “Do it for Yuuri.”

It was Yakov’s prerogative as a coach to know how to motivate his skaters, and if anything could motivate Vitya it was that boy. Viktor’s expression regained determination, but the new found emotion did not fully replace the torment that was so clear in his blue eyes. The tears shed were shining streaks on his cheeks. The skater rubbed a hand across his face and he drew a ragged breath to compose himself.

“Find him, Yakov, and tell him that I’ll be with him as soon as I can.” Viktor fixed his coach with icy eyes.

“I will. Now do your skate,” Yakov replied with conviction.

Seemingly satisfied enough with the coach’s response, Viktor gave a curt nod. They heard the drawn out notes of Yuri’s music, signalling the end of his performance and then a roar of applause. Time was of the essence. Yakov watched as the man in front of him turned on his heel to reach for his sweat towel and water to quickly wash off the blood. He would have to do it more hygienically later. Now it was time for Viktor’s performance.

The silver-haired man slid off his red and white jacket, decorated with the letters R and U for Russia, walked over to the entrance to the ice rink before turning back to face Yakov. Viktor bent to remove the blade guards from his skates, placing them on to the barrier of the rink. He looked up and pierced Yakov with an intense stare mixed with a tight smile.

_“Take care of him in my place.”_

The unspoken words were transmitted in the gaze. Viktor turned his back and stepped onto the ice, while Yakov turned on his heel and headed straight out of the rink space determined to find Yuuri.

 

* * *

 

“-ri.”

“ _Yuuri_.”

Someone called out his name. They had a Russian accent, he recognised the second time they uttered his name.

_Viktor?_

No… The voice was not right.

Yuuri opened his brown eyes and saw Yakov before him, as the man seemed to sigh in relief. He blinked around the older man who was very close. He was in a small room, with shelving, and the bright light overhead seared into his retinas. Nothing was in focus, save for Yakov’s face directly in front. What exactly had happened? How did he get here?

He remembered falling badly during his skate. The pain both physically and mentally. He sat waiting for his score. Lights flashed like the throb in his chest. Then Yakov’s face.

“Are you listening?”

The skater’s senses sluggishly returned to him. Yakov’s voice sharpened into coherent words rather than a gruff noise.

“Did you hit your head?” Yakov continued to try and coax Yuuri into speaking.

He felt slicked with sweat; the moisture chilled his barely clothed body. He knew this feeling. He had felt it before, a while ago, after a really bad attack. Before he had met Viktor. The older man raised his hands to Yuuri’s shoulders and shook him gently, rousing his unfocused attention onto the coach. Brown eyes flicked up to blue.

“Um, no?” Yuuri answered tentatively. Had he?

“That’s good,” the man spoke, the sound of relief evident in his tone. “I panicked when I found you, finally, and you were out cold.”

Ah, damn, he had passed out from a panic attack. That explained why he felt like his body and mind were not responding as they should.

“You sure know how to hide.” The man remarked, letting out a gruff laugh.

 _That’s the idea. So that no-one can see just how weak I am_. Yuuri internalised, feeling ashamed that he had been found in such a state. He needed to get better at hiding.

The skater turned his head away from the man, as tears pricked the rims of his sore eyes. He was so exhausted. Yuuri just wanted the ground to swallow him up and return him to his warm bed, safe in Hasetsu. His home. Even if it was less welcoming that it used to be with all the grief that now loomed over it.

“Where were you bleeding?” Yakov asked.

For a second Yuuri was confused, but then the recent memories returned.

_Body in agony._

_Red smeared over_ his _pale palm._

_“You’re bleeding!”_

Viktor’s panicked voice echoed in Yuuri’s sluggish mind, as he touched his right elbow. Yakov watched his slow movements. The skater removed his hand to find that most of the once fresh blood had dried, with only a small amount of the crimson liquid still seeping through his performance costume.

“Ah, nothing fatal then.” Yakov said dryly.

Yuuri stared at the coach, seeing in his downturned expression that the man had more to say but held his tongue. Yuuri’s mind had begun to gain back the speed of its thought processing. He wandered how Yuri’s and Viktor’s Short Programs had gone. He did not even know how much time had passed since he had hyperventilated himself into unconsciousness. How had he made Viktor feel running off like he did?  He was an awful person doing that to someone who loved him so much.

But, Yuuri could not help himself. The Japanese skater had been doing so well at learning how to lean on the people who cared about him, rather than trying to deal with everything on his own. Viktor’s sudden appearance in his life had taught him how to break down those walls. Yet, Mari’s death had triggered everything Yuuri had tried so hard to leave behind him. He had so easily slipped back into his old behaviour and it killed him to admit it. Killed him to know the pain he must have caused Viktor.

He had to protect him.

“Please don’t tell Viktor you found me like this,” Yuuri whispered, pleading.

“Fine.” Yakov easily agreed. “Then we’d better get you to the infirmary. Vitya is expecting you there.”

The brown eyed gaze, that had slid to the floor in his mental distraught, slid back up to Yakov at the mention of Viktor’s name. The man looked down at his watch. Yakov then backed away from Yuuri’s seated position on the floor to gain better access to his skates. The man untied them and slid them off of Yuuri’s feet gently. The skater marvelled at the tender care, reminiscing to how Viktor would do this for him after a day of gruelling training. Yuuri was not completely dense, he noticed that Yakov was like a father figure to his skaters.

He just had never expected the sentiment to ever be directed toward him, who was not even one of his students.

“You good to stand?” Yakov grunted out as he stood before him. Yuuri’s skates held together in his left hand.

Yuuri just nodded hesitantly, still not really having found his voice after his ordeal. If he was honest, he was not completely sure he could stand, but he would have to try if Viktor was going to be at the infirmary. He did not need to panic his fiancé even more if the man got to the place and Yuuri was not there.

Yakov extended his right hand to help the skater to his feet. Yuuri took it gratefully and moved his legs under him to raise himself up.

“Steady. Don’t want you passing out again from blood rush.” The man advised as he pulled Yuuri upright.

Yuuri heeded the warning, already feeling the slight shake of his legs from the sudden exertion. The coach seemed to search Yuuri’s face for any signs of discomfort when he had fully stood. Apparently happy with what he found, the man gripped the skater’s uninjured arm and led them out of the cramped room with a grunt.

The two men passed through the whitened corridors swiftly. They somehow managed to avoid bumping into any reporters or journalists and they arrived at the infirmary quickly. It had not been far from the storage room Yuuri had sought refuge in.

The female nurse greeted them kindly, guiding Yuuri to sit on the blue-sheeted examination bed by the clinically white wall. Noticing that Yuuri was still in a daze, Yakov explained to the nurse that the skater had cut his elbow from hitting the ice. The nurse then asked Yuuri to remove the top half of his performance costume, so that she could tend to and bandage the wound. The younger man complied silently and sat bare chested, his skin chilled slightly.

“Can you tell me what led you to passing out, Mr. Katsuki?” The lady asked gently.

It was the first time since their greeting that the nurse had directly asked Yuuri a question, as she had quickly ascertained that he was not open for talking. Obviously, this was a question that Yakov could not answer and Yuuri had to talk. He drew in a shuddering breath and let it out, willing himself to stay calm.

“I-I had a panic attack and hyperventilated.” Yuuri spoke quietly, not looking the nurse in the eyes.

The lady hummed in response from his elbow as she bandaged it. “And do you have these attacks often?”

Yuuri sighed, tired. “Um, I get really anxious easily. I was getting better, but then…” He paused. He did not want to bring up his sister again, not now. “It became worse again.”

The nurse nodded. She wore a sympathetic expression, as she finished up her tending to his wound, and raised herself from her bent position to look at Yuuri.

“I can walk you through some breathing exercises to help calm your anxiety, and help prevent more attacks,” she said helpfully.

Yuuri shook his head dejectedly. “I’ve been taught before. They used to help, but they don’t work anymore,” his voice cracked at the end. Admitting out loud just how useless he had become was painful.

“I see.” The nurse responded, pausing for a moment before moving across to her desk by the door to grab a pen and a piece of paper. “There’s someone you can try-”

The nurse was cut off by a loud, insistent knock on the door. She moved to open it and barely had a chance to open it a crack before it was rushed open by the assailant. Viktor ran in, almost pushing the nurse out of the way in his effort to get to the bed. Yuuri stared at Viktor with wide eyes, his mouth opened slightly, when the man sat down beside him on the bed. Viktor positively beamed upon seeing Yuuri safely sitting beside him. The older man was panting, as if he had just run hard and fast.

“Vitya, where the hell have your manners gone? Don’t barge into rooms!” Yakov reprimanded angrily, his face turning red.

But, Viktor ignored him. He probably did not even hear him. He was too focused on Yuuri, as he raised his hand to touch his fiancé’s cheek.

“I had to know you were okay.” Viktor spoke softly to his fiancé, rubbing his thumb along Yuuri’s check soothingly. “When you ran I didn’t know what to do…” He trailed off, his voice to full of care.

Yuuri was at a loss for words. He was falling apart at the seams and here Viktor was so warm, so full of life and sunshine. Unlike Yuuri, as he sucked away any bit of happiness that reached him.

“I’m glad Yakov found you,” Viktor continued to speak.

“Did you do your skate?” Yuuri blurted out, suddenly afraid.

Yakov grunted from behind before Viktor could reply. “Like I’d let him not.”

Yuuri sighed in relief, glad that he had not at least messed up Viktor’s chances for winning the Grand Prix aswell. He lent away from Viktor’s touch just enough to run a hand across his face.

The silver haired man leaned into Yuuri, sensing the younger man’s distress. “You can gain everything back in your Free Skate. You’ll be beautiful, like you always are,” he spoke into Yuuri’s dark hair.

Viktor reached up to meet Yuuri’s hand and intertwined their fingers, his gold ring catching the glint of the overhead lights. Yuuri closed his brown eyes at the touch, desperately wanting to believe the words of his fiancé.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Yakov love in this chapter, because he is totally a father figure who cares for his students even if he is grumpy!
> 
> I've changed the total number of chapters away from a set amount, as I totally underestimated how much I could write for the scenes that I have planned. So, I have no idea how many chapters they're going to take up!
> 
> Thank you all again for your views, bookmarks, kudos, and comments! They fill my heart so much and seriously motivated me to write the chapter quickly for you guys :)
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter! Let me know? :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve never been more proud of you."

Their shared hotel room was peacefully quiet, save the odd echo of heavy doors that closed to other rooms down the hall or the rumble of the engine of a large vehicle as it drove past on the road many floors below.

Phichit had asked for both Yuuri and Viktor to join their friendly group of competitors for a meal, so that they could enjoy themselves freely for a bit before the next part of the Final demanded their attention. But, the Thai skater's infectious smile had faltered upon seeing his best friend's exhausted body language, even when Yuuri had tried to hide it with a small smile. If anyone could read Yuuri, aside from Viktor, it was Phichit and he could never keep anything from his long time skating friend. An understanding expression had settled on Phichit's features, as he raised his hand to Yuuri's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. He told Yuuri to take the evening off and relax, before telling Viktor to do the same while he pointed a meaningful look at the silver haired man. Yuuri had watched his best friend walk away before Viktor's arm slid round his back to lead them to a taxi, and then to their hotel room.

As it was, Yuuri sat on the edge of the plush, king size bed that stood in the centre of the large hotel room. Yuuri gazed around at the deluxe suite and thought that he would never get used to the extravagance that Viktor showered him in. The five-star hotel was something that Yuuri would never have been able to afford comfortably before he had met Viktor, or he would have cared to have spent the money on. In honesty, he did not feel like he deserved to stay in such an exquisite place when they were using the money from Viktor’s sponsors and gold medal winnings. But, his fiancé would have it no other way and the thought made Yuuri smile slightly despite his internal strife.

He just hoped that one day he would be able to pay the man back for his unending kindness. With his own gold medal winnings and sponsors. His small smile slipped from his lips, as sadness seeped into his being. He knew that after his blunder earlier that day their dream of Yuuri winning gold would be pushed yet further back. Nationals would be next, but at the rate that the skater was spiralling down, he was not so sure that he would make it. Yuuri sighed and felt exhausted, not just in body but down to his core. So unbelievably tired that he felt like he could sleep for days without being awoken.

Movement caught Yuuri’s far off gaze and he turned his attention to Viktor rummaging around his suitcase on the other side of the room. Whatever he was looking for, he was determined to find it as the man had dumped half of the contents onto the floor beside him. It was rather endearing to watch the Viktor Nikiforov, who was cool and professional on the ice, become flustered over something lost within his luggage. The sight caused a flush of emotion to wash over Yuuri.

He wondered how long it had been since he had last uttered a word to Viktor. Had it been since they had reunited in the infirmary?

So much of their relationship evolved around actions rather than words. That was especially the case when Yuuri had so much going on inside that he was not able to talk. They had reached a level of understanding and trust within their relationship in which Viktor knew that Yuuri would speak when he was ready.

 “Viktor,” the dark haired man broke the companionable silence between them.

His fiancé stiffened slightly at the voicing of his name, but continued his investigation of the suitcase. Albeit slower than before. Yuuri knew that he was listening for his next words, not wanting to interrupt whatever the man needed to say.

Yuuri took in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for what happened today,” he spoke quietly.

Tears prickled the corners of his eyes.

At his words thick with emotion, Viktor immediately paused in his search. His head whipped round, causing his silver fringe to swing wildly across his face. He rose quickly, abandoning the mess of his suitcase behind him, as he crossed the distance between himself and his fiancé in a few strides.

He kneeled down in front of Yuuri and took his hands gently into his own. Viktor’s touch full of reverence and love. Concerned, gentle blue eyes looked up to meet Yuuri’s saddened brown. Viktor was so breathtakingly beautiful in the soft, orange glow of the bedside lamps.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, my love,” Viktor spoke soothingly.

Yuuri worried at his lower lip, pulling sores into the soft skin. “But… But I’ve wasted all of our hard work.”

Viktor shook his head, not acknowledging any truth in the statement. He let go of one of Yuuri’s hands, so that he could raise his left hand to cup the man’s cheek. His thumb ran along the skater’s reddened lower lip to prevent his teeth from catching it again.

“I don’t see any waste in you, Yuuri.”

Viktor’s tone was matter of fact, as he gave Yuuri’s hand a squeeze with his remaining right. The left still cupped round his cheek.

Yuuri was silent. He lent into the touch and warmth that his fiancé’s strong hand provided for him. The younger skater did not like to be comforted, because he hated to be pitied but he knew that Viktor would never belittle him like that. They were equals, forever and always.

“I’ve never been more _proud_ of you for continuing the Grand Prix. Any other person would’ve been crippled, before they even made it onto the ice, with what you have been going through.”

Viktor urged him to believe in his words. In _himself_. But, it was _so_ hard. How could he be proud when he had been doing so well… To just lose it all at the last hurdle? He will never win the gold that he promised Viktor way back then. If Viktor really did hold onto the promise that they would get married when Yuuri won the gold, then they never would. He did not doubt the silver haired man’s love for him, how could anyone? But, that did not stop the disappointment that would eventually plague their relationship, as Yuuri continued to never fulfil his vow.

Just when things had been looking up, everything went wrong and Yuuri felt like that was just his life all over. The cruel joke the universe liked to play on him: raise up his hopes just high enough to let him plummet back down.

“Hey,” Viktor’s gentle voice broke through his torture.

Yuuri refocused his tired gaze on the man he loved, as his mind resurfaced from its drowning. Viktor must have removed his hand from his cheek at some point, as the warmth there was missing, to instead be placed back on both of his hands on his lap.

“Why don’t I run you a hot bath? It’ll help you to relax and heal your aching muscles.”

The silver haired man smiled gently, waiting patiently for Yuuri to respond.

All Yuuri was able to do was nod. His throat too filled with held back emotion to utter a word. Sure he would cry out if he tried.

Viktor gave his hands one last squeeze, before he leaned up to place a sweet, lingering kiss on Yuuri’s forehead. The younger skater’s eyes slid closed at the adoring action, before it was too quickly taken away as the man moved toward the en-suite bathroom.

A vibration took his attention away from the ajar door of the bathroom. Yuuri turned his head just enough to see the lit up screen of his mobile next to him turn off. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. Yuuri still had not put his glasses back on after he had left them somewhere in the room to go and perform. He had to squint to read the text message that was in his inbox. It was from Yakov. Why was Viktor’s coach texting him? He could have just called if he wanted to talk to Viktor.

**[Today 20:07]** _The nurse gave me a number for the doctor who specialises in cases like yours. Do you want me to call it?_

Yuuri hesitated to reply. If he was honest, he was completely taken aback that Yakov was still even thinking about him. He had his own skaters who were competing to worry about. Not _him_.

Then there was the issue as to whether he wanted Yakov to call the doctor. Yuuri glanced to the bathroom door where steam had begun to emerge from the heat of the water filling the bath. Viktor’s soft humming was only just heard over the sound of the running water. The older skater believed that Yuuri was strong, but he was so _wrong_. But, he desperately wanted to embody what Viktor saw him as, believed him to _be_. He did not want to bring Viktor any more pain than he already had from seeing him suffer. He had made them both suffer enough with his grief and anxiety over the past few weeks. That is why he had half begged Yakov not to tell Viktor about his attack. He just wanted his fiancé to be happy.

If a specialist doctor would help him to achieve that wish, then that would have to be it.

Mind made up, Yuuri quickly typed out a reply.

**[20:11]** _Yes please._

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice sang from inside the en-suite bathroom.

Brown eyes snapped from their staring at his decision on the screen to the opening door.

“Y-yeah?” The younger man stuttered, his heart fluttering.

“The bath is ready for you,” Viktor replied once he had opened the door fully, leaning on the frame to look at Yuuri.

The dark haired man locked his phone and put it to the side, without giving it another glance. He stood slowly against his protesting body and made his way over to the bathroom. Viktor pulled gave his upper arm a small, affirming squeeze before he stepped out of the way and shut the door behind him. Providing Yuuri with the space he needed to clear his mind of the day’s events.

 

* * *

 

Soaking in the warm, jasmine scented water was exactly what Yuuri’s fatigued and aching body had needed. Though the level of serenity that Yuuri reached within a domestic bath setting was nothing compared to bathing at his family run business of Yu-topia Katsuki. Growing up around the naturally healing hot springs had completely spoiled him for any other bathing experience.

Alas, the time alone with his thoughts had been invaluable. He had made a silent pact with himself to take whatever help the specialist doctor provided him with. Even if he had to admit out loud his most private, locked away thoughts to a stranger. He had to do it for Viktor. To ensure his happiness.

The skater exited the en-suite, causing some of the damp steam to swirl into the more temperate bedroom. At the sound of the door, Viktor looked up from the book that he was reading, marked his page, and set it on the table beside the bed.

“Feeling better?” The silver haired man enquired warmly.

Yuuri walked over to the bed, towel draped around his waist with another rubbing at his damp hair. Odd beads of water dripped from the ends of the dark locks, that hung over his forehead, onto his bare, toned chest and he did not miss the way Viktor’s blue gaze followed their glistening trail over his skin.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, looking at Viktor propped up against the numerous pillows before he sat on the bed next to him. “Thanks, Viktor.”

The younger man peered at Viktor below the fluffy towel that he had draped over his head, no longer bothering to rub at his hair to rid it of the moisture. His brown eyed gaze held all the real meaning behind his words. All the meaning that did not need to be said out loud, because Viktor was able to _feel_ what Yuuri was thanking him for.

_Thank you for coming into my life._

_Thank you for giving me a purpose again._

_Thank you for loving me._

Viktor’s expression was soft as he leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met, unrushed and gentle as they simply enjoyed their intimacy. Viktor pulled back slightly, just enough to be able to be able to hold Yuuri as a willing hostage in his blue gaze. The man looked at him like Yuuri was the most precious thing in the world and Yuuri’s breath was taken away. A small blush raised mischief on his cheeks to mingle with the post-bath glow that already decorated his skin. He was always enraptured by the pure honesty in Viktor’s features.

How could someone look at _him_ in such a way?

“Anytime, Yuuri,” Viktor whispered, his breath fanning across Yuuri’s face.

The pair stared at each other for a while, drinking the other in.

Eventually Viktor pulled away and removed himself from the bed. The movement caused the air to displace and cool, causing Yuuri to shiver slightly in his barely covered body. He immediately felt the absence.

“I’ll just take a quick shower and then I’ll be with you.” Viktor promised.

“Okay.”

At the affirmation, Viktor moved to the bathroom and shut the door behind him with a click that resounded around the quiet room. Yuuri raised himself from the soft bed, dropped his towel, and reached into his suitcase to dress in his pyjama trousers with a loose top. He found his blue rimmed glasses on the vanity unit, that he had situated his suitcase next to, and placed them on his face. His vision immediately sharpening from their dull blur.

Yuuri walked back over to the bed, grabbing his phone along the way. He climbed into the crisp, white sheets and relaxed into the plush pillows behind him. He pressed the home button of his mobile and found that he had a text message waiting for him from Yakov.

**[20:23]** _Tomorrow at 3pm. I’ll take you._

That was a lot sooner than he had been expecting. Was a doctor’s practice even open at that time in the evening? Not that it mattered, Yakov had made the appointment.

Tomorrow was the day before the Free Skate for the Final. A day to allow the competitors to schedule in their last minute practice before the event concluded. It was his last chance to right his mistake. If he wanted to really show the world the fruits of his and Viktor’s labour.

He would have to think of an excuse to tell Viktor, which would allow him enough time to go to the appointment with Yakov without his fiancé becoming suspicious…

The sound of the shower stopped and Yuuri hurried his reply.

**[21:41]** _Thank you._

Yuuri did not know what else to reply. He locked the phone, turning his notifications to silent, and placed it onto the night stand on his side of the bed as Viktor emerged from the bathroom.

Tomorrow was going to be the day where he would put things right again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your Viktuuri mush (mixed with more angst) for your Valentine's Day treat :P  
> I want to clarify, before people worry, that Yuuri is not having suicidal thoughts - he's too aware of everyone's love for him to do that.
> 
> Thank you all for your bookmarks, subscriptions, kudos, and comments so far!  
> Your comments feed the muse <3
> 
> Find me @SakuraWindChime on Twitter, Tumblr, or Facebook if you want to talk to me or just see my YOI trash :3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri needed help, he knew it. But, it could not come from Viktor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the massive delay in updating this fic! The mixture of university deadlines and my birthday celebrations put a serious halt in the writing progress!  
> I'm very sorry that you've all had to wait for over a month for this chapter update and I will do my best to make sure it doesn't happen again!  
> Enjoy the chapter :)

Yuuri’s day of righting mistakes had not been going well.

Not even a little bit.

As soon as they had woken up, him and Viktor had headed to the Sochi ice rink to fit in a day of polishing off the Free Skate for the last leg of the Grand Prix Final the next day. Yuuri knew that Viktor had been eager to spend a full day in practice so that he could regain his confidence from the failure that had been his Short Program. But the nerves and the heavy feeling of disappointment, even anger at himself, would not dissipate.

His mind and body were not in their top form. The pressure in his chest only grew as more of the competitors piled into the rink, enclosing the space. The dark haired skater felt all of their eyes on him, looking at him and whispering to each other how he was not worthy enough to be _the_ Viktor Nikiforov's student. How could someone train under the legend for two seasons and still fail as spectacularly as he had yesterday?

Of course, it was _that_ Yuuri Katsuki who had flubbed his first Grand Prix competition. _That_ Yuuri Katsuki who won that silver last year. That _must_ have been a fluke.

The whispering in his mind was loud even over the music that played through Yuuri's earbuds from his MP3 player.

Then there was the problem of getting to his doctor's appointment without telling Viktor what he was doing. There was no way that Yuuri was going to burden the silver haired man any more than he already had. Viktor had been a fantastic pillar of support over the past few weeks, but he knew his pain was hurting his fiancé and Yuuri did not want to put the man through that any longer.

Yuuri skated a lap around the ice rink, not once looking up from the frozen surface. He set himself up to jump into a triple axle and lifted off the ice.

He did not know how long he could keep going on feeling like he did. The ongoing panic attacks were draining and the constant anxiety had both him and Viktor on edge, and he did not want that to plague their relationship anymore.

The blade dug into the crystalline surface at the wrong angle and Yuuri's body hit the ice. Again. The momentum made his body slide across the blisteringly cold surface before he shot out a hand to halt his movement.

"Ouch," the man sounded through clenched teeth, face a few centimetres from the ice.

Yuuri needed help, he knew it. But, it could not come from Viktor.

Once again, the dark haired man picked himself up and continued on. If anyone could call him anything, it was stubborn. He had almost given up after the Grand Prix of 2015, but there was no way that he was going to give up now that Viktor had come into his life.

Not after all that he has worked for. Especially not after knowing how much his skating career meant to Viktor, that much had been shown through his fiancé’s tears the year before.

Yet, those numerous pairs of eyes bored into his back as he raised himself from the floor. His body protesting every motion, the aching muscles screaming at him to stop. To let them rest as the numerous bruises bloomed across his skin.

Scrutiny followed Yuuri’s every over rotation in one spin, and every under rotation in another. In the landing of a jump with a small wobble the first time and then completely missing it in the next. The skater crashed to the ground over and over, pummelling any confidence or stubbornness with each fall. His body just would not do what he wanted. He knew how do all of this and it was _so_ frustrating.

His routine frayed at the edges, coming apart at the seams like his rattled nerves.

Today was supposed to be the day that he was going to start to right things, after the weeks of grief, but if anything it just promised even more failure.

“Yuuri,” his beyond familiar voice cut through the music that played into the younger man’s ears.

He looked up from the ice, realising that at some point he had halted practicing and had glided to a stop. Viktor stood on the ice, near Yakov at the barrier of the rink, waving Yuuri down to beckon him over to them. Yuuri’s gaze flickered toward the coach to see the old man had a grim expression, which was not an unusual occurrence on his features, but there was a particular downturn to his mouth that filled the younger skater with a pang of defeat. He shook his head at Viktor’s animated actions and turned away.

The beckoning was lost on the figure skater who was trapped within his own mind, as he simply glided across the frozen surface. The routine he had been practicing under Viktor’s watch completely forgotten.

The music Yuuri usually created with his body drifting further into the distance as it slowly dissipated into nothingness.

Perhaps he should just stick to doing figures for a while, at least until he had calmed his frenzied anxiety and cleared his mind. No… He wanted to try a quad once more. He needed to prove to himself that he could do it, that not all hope was lost.

Yuuri skated to gain momentum. He sped past those watchful eyes, ignored the words that followed his air stream. With a deep intake of breath, he prepared his position and kicked to propel himself upward. But, the angle of entry was off, his line of axis wrong and Yuuri did not even have the heart to save himself from hitting the ice.

The force knocked the earbuds from their place, skittering along the slick surface next to him. Yuuri winced at the pain that shot through his hip and his wrists that had prevented his head from hitting the unforgiving ice. The atmosphere of the rink was quiet and _heavy_. He was sure that everyone had just witnessed his failure. _Again_. Always again. Never once in a blue moon. If they had not seen it, then Yuuri was pretty sure that they had heard it at least.

Unbelievable disappointment wrapped around his chest and squeezed. Burning, shameful tears welled around their confines.

He honestly did not know how much more of this he could take before he was going to break.

Someone skated to a stop beside his fallen form, but Yuuri continued to stare at the ice. Afraid to see the expression of the person, he did not need to see his own feelings reflected in their face. That only lead to making everything a reality, rather than just a problem within his own mind.

“Get a grip,” Yuri’s brusque voice made Yuuri’s body tense.

He was not able to find the voice to answer. All words died below the lump in his throat.

The tut that sounded above him was audible around the silence of the rink. The pair of skates shifted near his head and he dared to peek out of the corner of his eyes to see the teenager lean down, his blond fringe falling into his field of vision.

“Keep going, Katsudon,” he spoke quietly, not looking at the skater but just staring ahead with concern furrowing his brow.

Yuri did not bother to help the Japanese skater to his feet, instead he straightened himself knowing that Yuuri had heard him and skated past.

“Alright, you can all get back to skating now,” Viktor’s voice bit across the rink, echoing off the walls.

The sudden sound, filled with protective anger, startled Yuuri from his stupor. He drew his body to lean onto his forearms as a brace, while he pulled his legs under his torso slowly. The movement elicited a hiss from the movement of his aching muscles.

It sounded like some people had resumed their movements, but not all judging from the awkwardness that circulated the atmosphere. The scrape of skates came beside him and halted in a rush.

“You heard him! Stop gawping. Every single one of you have had bad days,” Yuri shouted a little off in the distance, probably on the other side of the rink.

Movement was instantaneous this time. Everyone started at the admonishment from the skater who was younger than them, realising their rudeness.

Gratitude toward the younger, often prickly, skater surged within Yuuri. After a year of being in each other’s company, it seemed that his namesake had learned how to help those in his life in his own way. He had grown so much since Yuuri had first met him after a break down in that public bathroom.

How much Yuuri had not changed since that day when he thought he had…

“Hey,” Viktor’s soft tone brought Yuuri back to reality.

Weary, brown eyes roamed upward to meet concerned blue.

“Hey,” Yuuri replied shakily, holding the gaze even though every fibre within him urged him to hide away in shame.

Instead, his pounding heart told him to stay.

_Viktor must have had to abandon his own practice to help. I’m so useless._

The silver haired man gave a small smile from where he was crouched next to Yuuri on the ice.

“Are you hurt? You need to get up before you start to freeze,” Viktor spoke gently, reassuring his fiancé that none of his anger was directed toward him.

Yuuri shook his head. “Nothing other than the usual.”

The other man just nodded in understanding and proffered his hand to help Yuuri stand. He grasped it gladly, receiving a quick squeeze before he was carefully hauled back to a balanced, standing position.

“Vitya!” Yakov bellowed from the barrier.

Yuuri watched as Viktor’s eye twitched and he tsked in annoyance. The man turned sharply on his skates, not breaking the contact between his and Yuuri’s hands.

“Look, Yakov. I was just helping Yuuri up and-.”

“I don’t care. Get over here now.” The reddening anger of Yakov’s face had become worse with every word that Viktor had uttered, the shade reaching a disturbing depth.

Viktor sighed heavily and turned his back on his coach, so that he was blocked out of Yuuri’s view.

“I’m not going to cause a scene for your sake, Yuuri.”

The older man released one of Yuuri’s hands to place on his forehead and then brushed through his overhanging, silver fringe. A habit Yuuri had noticed his fiancé performed when he was very frustrated. The motion would have revealed those beautiful blue eyes if they had not been screwed shut.

He opened his visible eye again and reached up his free hand to touch Yuuri’s cold cheek.

“Are you okay to go?” Viktor spoke tenderly.

Of course Viktor asked, despite how the pair could practically feel the seething eyes of Yakov burn a hole through his back. Because the man would stop the world from turning if Yuuri was not okay for it to turn.

That was the problem. That was why Yuuri needed to sort himself out before he pushed Viktor over the edge with him. And he knew that the man would come willingly.

Yuuri nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed.

Accepting the affirmation, Viktor placed a hand on the small of Yuuri’s back and steered them to skate to the barrier of the rink where Yakov stood on the other side.

Viktor spoke immediately, before his coach even had a chance to inhale a breath since their stop in front of him.

“I know I need to practice, but I couldn’t just carry on and watch Yuuri-”

“Just listen for one moment for a change, Vitya.” Yakov cut off Viktor’s tirade abruptly.

Yuuri cast his focus away from the interchange, hating that he had disturbed Viktor’s practice. Hating that he was the cause of yet another argument between the coach and student. He was not worth enough to cause so much fuss.

If he could just control his anxiety and not let it dominate him, then none of this would have happened. His guilt and self-deprecation would not have to double tenfold.

“I’m going to take Yuuri for a break. The kid looks like he needs one.”

Brown eyes widened in realisation and Yuuri whipped his downturned head to stare at Yakov. That was it. That was the excuse to get him to the doctor.

“Then I’ll come with you both,” Viktor spoke matter-of-factly.

Viktor did not miss a beat.

Nor did Yakov.

“You need to stay here to practice.”

“But-”

“No. That is it. No buts.” Yakov ordered, words clipped. “You need to practice and Yuuri needs a break. Both can’t happen under your care, so I’m taking him.”

It was a battle of one strong will against another.

Yuuri saw that Viktor was searching for a way to sway the argument in his favour and he had to put a stop to it, otherwise Yakov’s free ticket out was going to be in vain.

“Vitya, please,” Yuuri said in a small voice.

Viktor shut his mouth, biting back the retort to Yakov that he had formed. Yuuri’s use of the Russian diminutive having had its desired effect. He turned to the younger man, his blue eyes locking onto Yuuri’s. The orbs searched Yuuri’s face, deciphering the words he had uttered and gauging his real emotions. Viktor’s Adam’s apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed and his body sagged slightly from losing tension of the battle. He seemingly accepted what he saw within Yuuri, albeit with intense difficulty.

Something akin to hurt flashed in Viktor’s eyes before he could carefully seal away the emotion before anyone saw. But, he was not quick enough for Yuuri’s well practiced reading of his fiancé.

“As long as Yuuri is okay with it,” his gaze did not leave Yuuri.

The younger skater nodded in affirmation and Viktor broke his hostage of Yuuri’s sight. “Just please keep me updated.”

“I am and I will. Thank you, love,” Yuuri spoke softly, as he reached up to place a chaste kiss on Viktor’s lips.

“Good. Now skate.” Yakov waded into the moment.

Viktor said his goodbyes and skated away, Yuuri watching his back before turning to skate to the exit of the rink and leave.

_Forgive me for not telling you. I’m doing this so that you won’t have to feel that pain anymore._

 

* * *

 

“So from what you have told me, Yuuri, it seems that the after effects of the grief over the loss of your sister have led to the re-emergence of your anxiety and feelings of worthlessness. Would you say that’s a fair conclusion?”

“Y-yeah,” Yuuri croaked out.

The session he had been having with Dr. Alexeeva had been intensely difficult. He knew before he had stepped into the female doctor’s room that he would have to bare himself for judgement, but that did not halt the tears that slid down his face as he spoke.

Or the stabbing pain that threatened to pierce his chest in two.

Yuuri explained everything that had happened over the past few weeks and how his feelings had descended ever darker. He recounted his panic as he discovered that none of his coping mechanisms no longer worked, how he was being crushed by the weight of it all.

What made it all the more worse was that he desperately wanted Viktor to be there beside him. For his fiancé, the love of his life, to grip his hand and tell him everything was going to be okay. Just like he had countless times since his loss. The lack of the silver haired man’s presence left him cold.

But, Yuuri had to be strong. For Viktor.

“And what would you have liked to have achieved by the end of our session together?” The doctor asked kindly.

“I, um…” Yuuri started, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I-I want to be able to control my anxiety, so that I don’t worry my fiancé anymore.”

“Which would also help prevent your worrying.”

“Yeah, it would,” Yuuri confirmed the statement.

Dr. Alexeeva smiled, pausing for a little while to make sure that the young man did not want to say anything else.

“Okay, Yuuri. You’ve done very well with speaking so openly with me today, not many in your position can do that.”

Yuuri blushed and ducked his head at the praise that he did not deserve.

“Judging from how the normal prescription of breathing exercises and distractions have stopped being beneficial for you,” the blonde female continued. “I’m going to recommend that you try a medication. It will work as a companion to your own efforts to help to restore the balance within your brain, as long as you keep to the dose of one per day.”

The younger man’s eyes widened. This was going to be his way of getting better.

“You are, of course, under no obligation to take the medication. But, it will be there if you feel that you are in need of it, okay?” The doctor smiled reassuringly again.

Yuuri just nodded. For the first time in a while the seeds of hope begun to bloom within him.

The lady printed off a prescription slip and signed it, before handing the paper to Yuuri along with her business card.

“Thank you very much, Dr. Alexeeva,” Yuuri gave a small bow as he headed toward the door.

“You’re welcome, Yuuri. Make sure to hand that card to your doctor in Japan when you go back, so that they can speak to me about your recovery program.”

“I will,” the man spoke enthusiastically.  “It was nice meeting you, goodbye.”

“And you, Yuuri, goodbye.”

Yuuri saw her smile once more, before he turned his back to exit the room. Yakov was sat in the waiting room reading a newspaper. The older man looked up when he heard the door close, promptly putting the newspaper back in its stand before making his way over to the skater.

“How’d it go?” He asked.

“Um, it went pretty well. She prescribed me some medication to help with it all,” Yuuri gestured toward the slip that he held.

Yakov flickered his gaze over the paper, briefly reading it before humming to himself. “I’ll make sure to pass this with the ISU before your Free Skate tomorrow.”

Anxiety flared within Yuuri, he had not thought about the ISU regulations. What if they did not allow it?

The coach seemed to sense Yuuri’s sudden change in demeanour.

“You’re not the first skater that I would’ve had to do this for. They’ll pass it,” Yakov spoke confidently.

His words placated Yuuri enough. The next obstacle would be Viktor…

Silence settled between the pair, as they walked out of the building and onto the street before Yakov’s voice sounded.

“Vitya will want to know,” the man gave Yuuri a sideways glance.

_Of course he was concerned about his student._

“I know… I’ll tell him somehow,” Yuuri said to the ground, watching his feet.

He received a grunt in response.

Yuuri pondered how he would broach the subject with his fiancé without upsetting him, as he and Yakov go to the nearest pharmacy to pick up the medication. Just holding the box in his hands made the uneasiness within Yuuri settle.

 _I can do this_.

He popped a pill out of its confines and swallowed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to formally diagnose Yuuri or state exactly the medication that I am basing all of this on, as I am not in a position to do so and out of respect for those who do suffer from similar things.  
> As you guys can probably tell this fic is going to be pretty heavy and deal with sensitive issues - just to warn you!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter and it means to world to me as a writer to receive feedback, so I would love to see your comments :)
> 
> Find me @SakuraWindChime on Twitter if you want to talk to me, see status updates for my fics, or just see my YOI trash :3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mind was a tumultuous chaos of not being able to coherently voice what he felt and refusing to burden anyone will it all. It was his cross to bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to welcome my wonderful new beta [Cenerea](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cenerea/pseuds/Cenerea)  
> She's helped me with two chapters so far and has been absolutely wonderful :D

Blades scraped along the ice. He was looking down at the familiar black skating shoes, which hugged his feet with their leather. The light tear from when he had attempted his first quad flip in competition last year was still present on the inside of his ankle. He really should get that fixed. He knew they were _his_ shoes, yet he did not feel in control of their actions.

Anxiety bubbled within him and he was powerless to do anything about it.

His body and feet he was staring at felt disconnected, as if they were not part of his body. The clarity of their movement swam in and out of focus, edges blurring as he tried to maintain his grasp on the vision before him. A jolt lurched through him, churning his gut as his vision tipped on its axis until his head collided with the slick floor. Cold seeped through his clothes, almost sharp at his temples where his head met the ice, and he laid in confusion at the lack of pain that such a fall should have entailed. He willed his muscles to move, even just a twitch, but his body refused to co-operate with his desperate pleading.

Laughter filled the silence.

_Stop._

Closing in, the sound surrounded his prostrate form. It cut off his air supply as mockery consumed the very oxygen he needed to breathe.

_Please._

Sudden vibrations ripped through the atmosphere. White light tore into darkness as Yuuri bolted upright in his bed, chest heaving. His heart thudded against his rib cage, eyes wide and frightened as he gazed around the room to gather his bearings.

He was in the hotel room that he and Viktor were sharing.

There was no ice rink.

No mocking laughter.

Just the light snores of the man beside him and those  _incessant vibrations_.

Yuuri hastily grabbed at the infernal object on his bedside cabinet. Squinting at the bright screen of his mobile phone, it illuminated the picture of him and Phichit at the Cup of China the previous year, holding their respective gold and silver medals at the camera whilst grinning from ear to ear. Yuuri sighed and pressed the lock button to mute the incoming call, silently promising his best friend that he would call back as soon as he got a grip on himself.

He placed the phone back in its place and raised a shaking hand to swipe damp locks out of his eyes.

Deep breath in, hold, slowly breathe out.

He drew up his legs to rest his head between his knees as he attempted to calm his erratic heartbeat, willing away the remnants of panic that begrudgingly lingered from the nightmare.

“ _Lyubov_ … _moya_.”

Yuuri lifted his head at the tired, distant sounding voice beside him. After spending almost two years with Viktor, he had learned by heart all the beautiful endearments that his fiancé showered upon him, never losing once the sentiment behind them. Not even when spoken to the Yuuri within the man’s dreams.

Sunlight streamed through the gap between the blackout hotel curtains, the brightness of it indicating that it must have been about mid-morning. They would have to get up soon, but Yuuri was loathe to wake Viktor when he evidently needed the sleep. It was so rare for the usually bouncy morning person to sleep late, and he was absolutely incredulous that the man had not even stirred at the vibrating phone.

Viktor was in a deep sleep, curled in on himself as he continued to mumble unintelligible Russian. Long, silver eyelashes splayed out over his cheekbones while equally silver hair covered part of his pale face, which Yuuri reached up to tenderly move behind his ear so that he could gaze upon his peaceful expression. Yuuri knew that Viktor only mumbled in his sleep when something weighed heavily on his mind. And the fact that he had whispered his favourite endearment…

A pang of guilt stabbed at his gut.

He needed to pull himself together before he made Viktor sick with worry. He still had to see Viktor’s Short Program performance from the first day of the Final, but he had not missed the whispers from his fellow competitors that spoke about how small the gap was between Viktor’s first place lead and the second.

And Yuuri knew he was to blame.

Viktor would forever deny that he had any negative impact on his performance, only ever stating that it was with their love that his skating continued to be so _strong_. But – Yuuri was well aware that everything that had happened in the past few weeks had taken a heavy toll on his fiancé. It had drained him to a point that only a small portion of his dazzling sunlight shone through.

Yet he was as beautiful as ever, while Yuuri continued to wither beside him.

With a deep sigh Yuuri dragged himself out of bed and padded over to his backpack where his new medication lay in wait. It was the day of the Free Skate and considering the way he had woken up, Yuuri figured that he would definitely need the single dose he was allowed. He popped out the pill and knocked it back with water from the bottle he kept at his bedside, before placing the box in the depths of his bag well out of Viktor’s sight. He was going to wait until after the competition was over before he told his fiancé where he and Coach Yakov had went, not wanting to put any extra strain on Viktor before his skate.

Feeling disgusting with the night sweat drying on his skin and making his bed clothes stick, Yuuri headed into the en-suite to shower.

 

* * *

 

The cool shower was refreshing and gave Yuuri time to think. Viktor was still sound asleep by the time he had finished, so decided to allow his fiancé his much needed rest.

“I’ll be right back, Vitya,” Yuuri whispered to his lover.

He leaned down to gently place a kiss upon his forehead, before he straightened back up, grabbed his phone, wore his glasses and headed out of the door.

Yuuri walked down the hotel passageway and entered the stairwell to call his best friend without disturbing any of the other hotel guests.

“ _Yuuri_!”

Of course Phichit answered on the first ring.

“Hey,” he spoke softly into the receiver.

“ _You’re finally with your phone! Do you realise how many times I have called you? Six! And that’s since eight this morning, not even counting the amount of times I tried yesterday. I even called Viktor, and not even_ he _answered_.”

Yuuri chuckled at the exasperation evident in Phichit’s tirade.

“We both decided to have an early night, so we wouldn’t have heard.” He held a nervous breath, hoping that sleep would be enough of an excuse to placate his friend despite its simplicity.

It was not like the information was completely false. Viktor had indeed fallen asleep early after they had been out to dinner together and bathed. They had been cuddling, savouring each other’s warmth, until Viktor’s grip on Yuuri’s hands had fallen slack and his breathing evened out to soft swells of his chest.

“ _But I’ve been calling you since yesterday afternoon_ ,” Phichit retorted without missing a beat, not buying the statement for a second.

Ah, he really should have checked all the time signatures before trying to fool his best friend. He knew better than anyone that Yuuri could never sleep early before competing, having experienced his relentless pacing around their shared dorm room back in Detroit.

“I’ve been really busy?” Yuuri raised his voice to a question at the end, dragging a tembling hand through his damp hair, because who was he kidding?

He had never been able to lie to his best friend and had lost any attempt at pretence as soon as he had pressed the call button on his phone. Phichit had always been able to see right through him and he knew it.

“ _Now we both know you’re lying. What’s really going on, Yuuri? I heard that you left your practice slot early_.” And there was the serious tone that Phichit only used when he felt Yuuri retreat within himself, trying to hide something.

Yuuri took a steadying breath and let it out slowly, grip tightening on his phone. If there was ever any gossip about a skater going around then Phichit would be one of the first to know. The only thing he could do was try and keep as little from slipping as possible. He did not need to ruin his best friend as well as his fiancé.

He closed his eyes before speaking. “No matter what I tried yesterday, nothing would work. I just kept falling over and I was disturbing everyone else in the rink, so Coach Yakov called it a day and took me out as a distraction.”

“ _Why did Yakov take you and not Viktor?_ ” Concern was clear in his tone.

“He needed to practice and there was no way Yakov was going to let him off early the day before the Free.”

“ _And he just let_ _you_ _go?_ ” Phichit sounded surprised… and mildly angry.

“No, no!” Yuuri was quick to correct, waving his free hand in front of him: there was no way that he was going to allow any fault to fall onto Viktor’s shoulders as a consequence of Yuuri’s lie. “I couldn’t let him miss practice just because I can’t keep myself together for a few hours, so I asked him to stay.”

Recalling the scene before he left the rink the previous day brought on a new wave of guilt. The look of hurt that had flashed through his fiancé’s eyes, after he had practically begged for the other man to stay, had continued to haunt him until he saw Viktor’s face again.

“ _You know that he only wants what’s best for you_.”

Water pooled in Yuuri’s eyes at the words and he screwed them shut. He knew that, anyone would be blind if they did not see how much Viktor cared for him. That was why he had gone in the first place.

“ _As do I…_ ” Phichit trailed off.

“I know,” Yuuri whispered into the receiver, choking up, tears trailing down his cheeks.

Heavy silence descended between the pair for a few minutes, as they just listened to the breathing of the other over the phone line.

Yuuri leaned against the sill of the window looking out at the world below. He felt almost as disconnected from the life unfolding below, as he had felt from his body in his dream. There he was high above the bustling street, with its cars and people rushing toward their destinations without any care or knowledge about the man watching them in the enclosed, quiet stairwell. The world and each life in it were moving on, while Yuuri felt stagnant, continuing to drown in the grief of his life and lost sister.

“ _Yuuri… Are you sure you’re coping okay? I’ve barely been able to see you since everything happened, let alone even talk to you_.”

His chest rattled as he drew in a breath, the tracks of his dried tears stiff on his skin. He moved to rub at his sore eyes under the glasses with his hand, taking the time to re-adjust the frames before finally answering.

“I’m sorry, Phichit.”

It was all he _could_ say, because he was _sorry_. Sorry that he continued to put everyone he loved through hell. Sorry that he could not connect with them the way they needed him to – the way _he_ needed to. It was Mari who always knew what to do when Yuuri was drowning, knew exactly what to say, but she was gone and there was nothing anyone could do to fix that.

His mind was a tumultuous chaos of not being able to coherently voice what he felt and refusing to _burden_ anyone will it all. It was _his_ cross to bear. The relief he had felt to be able to tell the doctor everything, and not have to worry about the effect it would have on them, was like a weight off his chest.

But it was not able to stay off for long.

“ _Are you letting yourself  grieve? You can’t keep it all bottled up. I know you, Yuuri… you’ll try to carry on and let everyone think you’re okay, when you’re anything but_.”

It was like a stab in the gut, those words that were so _painfully_ true. Yuuri had to bite his lip to prevent himself from releasing an agonised wail from the emotions swirling within him.

“I… It’s…” He pushed away from the window, bringing a hand up to the black locks hanging over his forehead and yanked. “I’m getting there. One day at a time.” Frustration seeped through his tone, all of it aimed himself.

“ _Okay… I’m only a phone call away if you need someone other than Viktor to talk to._ ”

He could hear Phichit’s resignation and it only made him pull at his hair harder. Why did he always have to be like this? So accepting, so full of love. Just like Viktor. Yuuri would never replace them for the world and he was endlessly grateful for their support, but it did nothing for the guilt that threatened to bubble and overflow.

“Thank you.” Much more needed to be said, though that was all he could manage.

“ _Anytime, Yuuri_ ,” he spoke quietly, almost with reverence. “ _I’ll be seeing you later to steal that gold from you and your lover boy anyway_.” And there was the jovial Phichit back in full force, like the serious conversation they had just had was all forgotten.

“Yeah,” he did his best to laugh, though it sounded more like a choked cough. “See you later.”

“ _Bye, bye_.”

Phichit hung up. The sudden silence of the stairwell sunk into Yuuri, the arm holding his phone falling limp to his side. He wiped at his eyes before listlessly moving back toward his and Viktor’s hotel room.

He wondered if the man would be awake when he entered, because he sure as hell needed to feel the warmth of his fiancé around him. To ground him, to prevent his mind from spiralling into the pit it was doing its best to fall into.

The key card slotted into the lock and the light flashed green. He leaned on the door to push it open, casting his gaze into the room to meet piercing blue eyes watching him enter.

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s soft voice called out.

Viktor lifted his arms, beckoning for Yuuri to join him in the bed and be wrapped in his embrace. Lip quivering at how Viktor always seemed to know exactly what he needed, he let the door close behind as he rushed to the bed.

 

* * *

 

The Free Skate, the reporters, and the celebrations all go by in an apathetic blur.

Yuuri felt as if he was simply going through the motions of what was expected of him, with either Viktor or Phichit pulling him along by the hand. The two men were constantly by his side, save for the time he spent on the ice during his performance. It was almost like they had conspired against him to make sure he was never alone. While he appreciated their effort, and loved them for it, he found that he was excusing himself to go to the bathroom more often than not to repel the magnetic pull that the two radiated.

They just had this _ability_ to make a room feel warmer when they stepped into one, to make anyone brighten with glee through a simple greeting. And since Viktor had come into his life to elevate him to a higher state of joy, Yuuri had begun to think that maybe he was able to do that too.

Until everything had come crashing down, forming a wall of rubble around him. It continued to collapse inwards, confining him within a tighter space as he clawed at its sheer height in desperation for escape.

At least the buzz of free champagne at the banquet took the edge off it all. Warmth seeped through the cotton of his midnight dress shirt, from where Viktor’s arm had been permanently wrapped around his waist since they had entered the hall. Chatter and music from the live string band filled the space with sound, smooth and melodic.

To his complete lack of surprise, plenty of sponsors approached Viktor after winning a new gold, yet another to add to his ever-growing collection. From his part Yuuri only managed to climb up to fifth place, with a performance that lacked all of the beautiful presentation that Katsuki Yuuri, the previous year’s GPF silver medallist, was famous for. There were no new sponsors who were interested in him this year, and he could already predict the disappointed phone calls and emails he would receive over the next few days from the few he _had_ managed to gain. Whether he would be able to keep them was another matter.

Pressure weighed within his chest. Viktor was animatedly engrossed in conversation with Chris, though what they were talking about Yuuri had no idea. All he knew was that he needed to find a way out.

“Um, Viktor?” He spoke, placing his hand lightly on the side of Viktor’s chest to draw his attention.

Viktor’s lips stilled and his blue eyes fixed on his instantly. Yuuri swallowed, the gaze so intense he was sure that Viktor could see right through him.

“Everything okay, my love?” His voice was low enough just for Yuuri to hear, brimming with affection.

Yuuri pooled all of his willpower to match his gaze. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

A soft smile graced Viktor’s face, before he leaned down to give him a light kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you soon,” his lips moved against Yuuri’s skin before he pulled away, taking the comforting warmth of his arm with him.

Yuuri did his best to smile back, turning on his heel and quickly heading toward the exit to make a beeline to the bathroom. He peered around and breathed a sigh of relief to find that the room and stalls were empty. Walking toward the basins, Yuuri gripped the edge of the white porcelain and stared at his reflection.

He looked wrecked, despite the eyeliner and mascara Phichit had insisted he wore for the sake of ‘bringing out his Asian beauty.’ Though, he knew it was to help cover up the fact that his skin had taken on a sicklier pallor than usual. Viktor had also expressed the wish to slick back his hair, but all it did was emphasise the light reflected by the beads of perspiration along his hairline. Yuuri always broke out in a sweat when panic seized him and his usually overhanging locks of dark hair were perfect at hiding it. They had not even allowed him to wear his glasses, telling him instead to wear contacts.

He imagined that it was supposed to make him feel better. But, all it made him feel was bare.

Reaching into the pocket of his suit trousers, Yuuri drew out the medication box he had begun to carry around with him. He took a pill and popped it into his mouth.

The heavy fire door opened with such a force that the handle smashed into the tiled wall of the bathroom. Yuuri flinched, dropping the blister pack into the basin and swallowing the medication quickly. He whipped his head up to stare at the reflection of the intruder in the mirror.

“What the hell are you taking, Katsudon?” Yuri growled, entering the bathroom.

The blond stalked over to where Yuuri was standing on the other side of the room and snatched the box that had been resting on the counter beside the basin. Yuri scrutinised the label, grip tightening on the box making it cave in on itself.

 “Shit. You’re on meds now?” He spat, throwing the box back to Yuuri.

The throw was short, Yuuri having to step forward and fumbling to catch it. Still shaken from the sudden entrance, and embarrassed from being caught medicating away from prying eyes, he almost dropped the pack again as he hastened to place the blister and its box back into his pocket.

“It’s to help… with everything.” Yuuri said quietly with his back to Yuri, unable to look him in the eye, choosing to stare at the floor instead.

Yuri tsked and Yuuri heard him shift. “No wonder the old man sent me in here.”

Yuuri stilled, eyes widening at the statement. He turned slowly to face the teenager, nowhere near any state to hold a conversation with nerves so high. Green eyes bore into him, blond brows furrowed so deep that they cast harsh shadows over them from the harsh spot lighting.

“Viktor sent you?” He asked tentatively.

The brows only furrowed deeper, as he unwound his crossed arms to clench his hands into fists at his sides.

“He’s worried sick about you.” The tone was less brusque. “Everyone is,” Yuri’s voice was thick, sounding as if it was about to crack.

This time _Yuri_ was the one to turn his head away from Yuuri, to stare at the tiled wall.

And Yuuri did _not know_ what to do.

He already _knew_ that everyone was worried about him. He did not need others to rub it in his face. Did not need it being admitted out loud for the world to hear, making it an unavoidable reality.

When everything is in your head it is easier to _pretend_ it was not really _real_.

Yuuri felt sickness swirl within his stomach, his cold self-loathing biting through the once pleasant haze of tipsiness. He swallowed and steeled himself, clenching his own fists by his sides as he stared right into Yuri.

“I-I’m sorry.”

Why does he always have to _falter_?

“That’s why I have them. To sort it all out.” His tone was clipped.

Yuri’s eyes snapped up to glare at him.

“Does _he_ know?” Yuri spoke through gritted teeth.

They both knew whom he was referring to.

Yuuri started forward, heading for the exit. “I will tell him.”

He pushed past the door and left the bathroom swiftly, not looking back or waiting for a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank all of you for your continued patience with my extended hiatus and the wonderful messages you guys left me. It did go on longer than I had originally planned due to life being incredibly busy, but I'm going to work hard to make sure consistent updates will be rolled out!
> 
> This chapter ended up being filled with much more angst than was intended, however I felt it important to establish the roles of people within Yuuri's life and his own mental state.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and the return of this fic! Let me know what you think :)
> 
> Want to talk to me about fanfiction, anime, or just anything? Check out my social media:  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SakuraWindChime)  
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	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did he ever deserve such love from the beautiful person behind him? A person so caring, so adoring and so, so thoughtful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the change in rating from Teen to Mature - it has been made due to the themes that this story is going to be moving into and to cover the sexual context of this chapter :)

There had been multiple times Yuuri could have told Viktor. Admitted everything out loud, come clean and allowed his fiancé to support him in the way he knew Viktor wanted to.

It was obvious in the way Viktor clung to him more than he ever did before, in how the gaze of one of those beautiful blue eyes trailed after him to make sure he was still in one piece. It was like Viktor _knew_ that Yuuri was _this_ close to disintegrating. The embers quickly gaining more fuel to burst into flames, a fire raging unbidden within him. And come what may, Yuuri knew that Viktor would let himself be scorched, broken beyond repair, to keep his ashes from scattering in the wind, lost forever.

Yet the airport, where they had been waiting for their flight from Sochi to Saint Petersburg, lacked the intimacy such a conversation required.

Whilst on the airplane, sitting in their amicable business class company for three hours, there was the chance that _someone_ would over hear.

Sitting on the sofa of their shared apartment, nursing their coffee to warm themselves from the chilling Russian winter, the dread of having to tell Viktor weighed so heavily over his head it just frazzled him.

There were so many moments, and yet none of them had been right. There was _never_ a right moment. 

How would he even go about it?

‘ _Oh, hey Viktor. By the way your fiancé is on medication because he can’t deal with his own feelings_ ’?

_Yeah, good one…_

And Yuuri was _terrified_ of how Viktor would react.

Would Viktor blame himself for being unable to provide the help he needed? Because this was all on Yuuri. There was no way that he would ever _willingly_ let the centre of his world, the one who had brought him so much joy, feel like that.

But, he did not want to feel like he was suffocating anymore. Burning, bright like a beacon and destroying all in its wake to smouldering cinders. Reaching out a hand in a desperate spark of hope, but withdrawing, because he did not want to burn anyone with the responsibility of saving him.

He could save himself.

Yuuri was not weak, not really, that much he was sure of. If he were weak he would not have re-entered the competitive skating world after the disaster that had been the skating season of 2015/2016.

 _No_. Instead he had grown tired of his depressive episodes and learned Viktor’s stunning Stammi Vicino Aria routine. A routine meant to channel the last shred of desperate hope that he _could be something_ , had the Viktor Nikiforov dropping his competitive career and flying across the ocean just to see him.

Yuuri was strong, determined and stubborn. The latter was a personality trait that anyone who had a close relationship with Yuuri knew all too well. And with the help of the medication as his propelling force, he could be mentally strong again.

No matter how hard Yuuri tried to, though, the death of his sister was something that he just could not shake off. The knowledge followed him with his every movement. Every time he awoke, the glow of Viktor’s welcoming smile was dimmed by the harsh reality that he had lost his emotional rock, his guidepost. His blood.

It was Mari who understood what he needed when he silently stood in the doorway of her room, as she held out her arms just as silently. To allow her baby brother to melt into a blubbering mess in her embrace when everything had just become too much, until he had cried himself to sleep.

It was Mari who gave him the final push to pursue his talent for figure skating, to raise it to the next level and take the world by storm.

The one person who, unwavering, had taken everything he had thrown at her through his lonely childhood and rough teenage years, the one who had been there for him when their parents could not because they had a business to run and a family to feed — she was gone.

It was Mari who had formed a gaping, aching hole in his chest where his heart should have been. A heart which allowed him to love and be loved in return, just like Viktor taught him how.

And yet, Yuuri just could not do it as he waded through the murky waters of his mind to find Viktor. To find Phichit, Minako, Yuuko, Yuri, his parents.

He thumbed at the blister pack of his pills in the pocket of his trousers, where they had become a permanent fixture on his person. The box had been discarded after Yuri’s hand crushed it in a fit of rage. His nail dragged across the ridges of the indented sections where single doses used to be, but were now inside his body, battling to tame the wildfire of anxiety that plagued him.

“Yuuri?” Viktor spoke softly next to his ear.

Startled, he nervously flinched at the sudden sound that wrenched him out of his thoughts. He quickly tore his hand out of his pocket, as if the mere presence of the pills in Viktor’s company had burned him. The sudden movement had Makkachin grumbling at being disturbed from his sleep on Yuuri’s curled up legs. Yuuri immediately ducked his head, an embarrassed flush warming his face with the guilt of having regressed so far into his thoughts that he had left the real world completely behind.

Chuckling filled the quiet room and Yuuri lifted his gaze to witness the beauty of Viktor Nikiforov’s soft smile and mirth- crinkled eyes. In the past he had thought of Viktor as an angel descended on ice, but now he knew that his fiancé’s true radiance lay behind the closed doors of his love for Yuuri.

Yuuri turned his head in questioning. “Vitya?”

Viktor lifted his hand to rest it tenderly on Yuuri’s jaw, fingers stroking lightly, reverently. Yuuri leaned into the touch, revelling in their comforting warmth.

“You look so cute when you’re surprised.” And there it was, the cheeky lopsided grin that took Yuuri’s breath away every time.

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri reproached, only half-heartedly indignant. In truth, he adored every trick Viktor played on him.

“I have something to give you.” Viktor’s eyes bore into him, sparkling in the low light of the lamp-lit room – and did he look _shy_?

Viktor’s arm shifted, pulling up a velvet, royal blue gift box from where he must have placed it on the sofa earlier. He reached out to take Yuuri’s hand within his own, turned it around and caressed his palm before placing the box into it.

“What is this?” Yuuri flickered his eyes up to Viktor briefly, before returning them to the light weight on his palm.

Viktor gave a sheepish laugh, moving to run his hand through his overhanging fringe. Viktor was definitely nervous. “I was supposed to give this to you at the Final. But this foolish brain of mine left it on the bedside cabinet here instead of packing it in the suitcase.”

Moments passed as Yuuri just stared at the box.

“Go on, open it,” Viktor urged.

Yuuri brought his other hand up to slowly lift the lid, sensing Viktor holding in his breath as the item inside was finally revealed. An oval locket laid in a cushioned bed of sparkled black, the dark colour perfectly illuminating the polished gold of the necklace. Yuuri’s mouth fell open as he carefully lifted the jewellery out and lowered the box to his lap. His gaze caught the swirling, cursive script on the front: “ _Forever_.”

Eyes widening, he cradled the locket and staring in hesitance to even touch it to discover what was inside. He searched Viktor’s face for answers but all he saw was reassurance to continue. And so he pinched the casing between his fingers and it opened. His breath caught, a small choked sound escaped his lips at what he saw.

Inside was a picture of Yuuri and Mari, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. They were leaning into one another, smiling, almost laughing, with crinkled eyes and joyous expressions. Looking _so alive_.

Tears flowed freely down his face; Yuuri was speechless.

“Do you remember when that picture was taken?” Viktor spoke softly, easing his presence into Yuuri’s mind space.

He slowly nodded, droplets wetting his lap and the hands cradling the necklace with the movement.

“I-it was…” Yuuri took a shuddering breath, the _familiar_ stinging of tears making his throat tight and voice thick with emotion. “It was after we had announced our engagement and she’d tackled me as soon as we left the restaurant. I didn’t… I didn’t even know you took this picture.” A sad smile swept unbidden across his lips, the salty taste of tears leaking into the stretch of his mouth. “It’s beautiful.”

“Ah, for once it wasn’t me who took a sneaky picture of you.” He paused until Yuuri looked at him, obviously waiting to have his attention for dramatic effect. “It was my partner in crime,” Viktor finished with a wink, the flourish of his head causing his fringe to fall into his usually uncovered eye.

“Phichit,” Yuuri chuckled out. “Of course.

Viktor shifted to hold out his hand in front of Yuuri, palm up. "May I?" He asked, gesturing at the necklace in Yuuri's hold.

He nodded in response, watching as Viktor gently picked up the necklace and moved to sit behind him. The switching of places jostling the sofa enough to disturb Makkachin’s peace. Yuuri watched the poodle pad his way to his bed in the corner of the room, turning to settle with himself on the plush cushion. Strong arms came around and lowered to place the piece of jewellery around his neck. The locket fell atop his sternum, right next to his heart. Right where Mari's memory belonged. _Forever_.

Yuuri touched the locket and bowed his head, eyelids sliding shut. "Thank you. Thank you so much," he cried quietly, fresh tears trailing down his cheeks.

A soft exhale lovingly tickled Yuuri's nape. "Anything for you, _zolotse_ ," Viktor murmured into his skin.

How did he ever deserve such love from the beautiful person behind him? A person so caring, so adoring and so, so thoughtful.

For the first time for what had felt like an eternity, an endless drowning in the dark and cold hollowness of grief, Yuuri felt warmth. The shimmering light he had seen beyond the dark water’s surface finally broke through: life bubbled up to meet it, uncontrollable, and spread a genuine, joyful smile across his face.

He _laughed_.

And it felt so damn good to be _happy_.

Viktor made a noise in questioning, lifting his head from the crook of Yuuri's shoulder. Yuuri turned to face his fiancé once more and drew him in for a kiss, winding his hands through his silver hair. Viktor stiffened slightly, surprised at Yuuri's unexpected initiative, before placing his hands on Yuuri’s waist to turn him fully and deepening the kiss. Arms wrapped themselves around Yuuri’s waist, drawing their bodies impossibly close.

Breathless, they parted lips reluctantly and rested their foreheads together. They stayed like that for a few moments, just listening to the life of the other as their chests rose and fell in tandem; the beating of their racing hearts, the drawing of breath.

"I love you, Viktor. More than anything," he whispered in the peaceful space between their lips.

Viktor's breath hitched. "Oh Yuuri," he breathed, barely loud enough to be heard. "I love you so much that, no matter how many languages I learn, I'll never find the perfect words to express what I feel for you."

And for the second time that night, Yuuri smiled uncontrollably. "I don't need perfection. I just need you."

He gazed into Viktor's tear-sparkled eyes, where he saw only joy and warmth, before he was pulled into a sweet, lingering kiss.

Yuuri was drunk.

Drunk on the enjoymeny of feeling alive again, longing to latch onto that lifeline before it slipped through his fingers. He did not know how long the elation would last, and he would be damned if he didn't make the most of it before he crashed back down.

He trailed his hand down Viktor's back, as they continued to breathe each other in. Fingers traced round a pronounced hip and dipped lower until they found their target, cupped and gently pushed.

"I want you," Yuuri breathed, pulling Viktor's lip between his teeth.

This time Viktor's breath hitched for an entirely different reason. He pulled away, looking at Yuuri straight in the eyes.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his concerned expression restraining the lust hardly contained within the depths of his eyes. "We haven't since…"

Yuuri hushed him with a finger to his lips, moving to lean up on his knees. "The surest I've been," he spoke in a low voice, towering above Viktor.

He swung his leg over Viktor to cage him in between his thighs before lowering himself to straddle the man staring at him with adoration.

Leaning down to Viktor's ear, his voice dropped to a seductive tease. "Would you deny me, _Vitya_?" He said, rolling his hips forward to punctuate exactly what he meant.

And Viktor blazed.

Yuuri didn't know if it was the use of the Russian diminutive that always seemed to strike a particular chord with his fiancé, or the fact that they hadn't been intimate in so long, but Viktor lost all control.

He latched onto Yuuri's lips and grabbed his ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh with feverish need, drawing a moan from Yuuri. Viktor's tongue licked into Yuuri's mouth, taking complete control as Yuuri was left panting.

Their mouths unlocked and Viktor moved to trail his tongue down Yuuri's jaw, onto his neck. Teeth grazed his exposed throat, sucking and marking their way onto white flesh. And Yuuri let him: oh how he _wanted_ to proudly wear the proof of their love.

Just like he wore the golden ring, a perfect match to Viktor’s own, and it always caught the light, no matter how dim. A symbol of their spark, their burning love, inextinguishable.

Yuuri's hands scrambled for purchase on the bottom of Viktor's top, finally finding the end and yanking upwards. Viktor lifted his arms and left his neck just long enough to allow Yuuri to pull the shirt over his head before rushing back.

Fingers explored heated, pale skin. They traced the lines and dips where firm muscles met, contracting and releasing with the excited movements of their owner. Nails grazed up a ridged abdomen and over smooth pectorals, reaching puckered nipples.

Viktor's mouth found his again, hands coming up to cup the back of his head and neck. Yuuri rolled Viktor's nipples between his fingers, earning a yank of appreciation on his hair for his efforts. The pleasurable pain made his hips involuntarily buck, making Viktor groan. The sound sent everything south and _he needed more_.

He wrenched his lips away. "Bed," he panted. "Now."

And Viktor did not need any more persuasion. He shifted forward, grabbing Yuuri's ankles to guide them behind his back. Knowing what he wanted, Yuuri locked his feet over the other to wrap his legs around the lean waist, while Viktor braced his forearms under his thighs and gripped his rear. Viktor lifted them off the sofa, their mouths coming together as Yuuri was carried to their bedroom.

Not even bothering to close the bedroom door, Viktor dropped Yuuri onto the plush king-sized bed. He laid, sprawled on his back as a Viktor crawled over his body, lifting his shirt as he ascended. The garment thrown to the floor, Viktor loomed over him staring with hooded, blue eyes before sitting on Yuuri's crotch.

Hands came to gently lift Yuuri's glasses away from his face, dislodged by the removal of his shirt, taking care to fold the arms and place them on the bedside cabinet. A small smirk decorated Viktor's face before he rolled his hips, making Yuuri squeeze his eyes shut and release a guttural moan of _want, need, more_.

Viktor gladly obliged.

He lowered his mouth to suck on his nipples, making Yuuri gasp with the sensation and fist the bedsheets under him. His body had always been more sensitive than Viktor's and his fiancé loved to take advantage of that particular trait.

"You are beautiful, Yuuri," Viktor breathed onto his body, his voice rough, already half wrecked and he hadn't even been touched.

Silver hair brushed his naked, lusty skin as Viktor travelled downwards to litter every part of him with kisses, leaving a heated map of worship in his wake.

"Stunning."

Kisses trailed down his stomach.  Nails scraped at his waistband, trousers and boxers pulled down his legs and discarded.

Viktor's mouth sucked its mark onto his thighs and Yuuri arched into the touch, groaning.

"Viktor, please. Stop teasing," Yuuri panted, frustrated.

A low chuckle came in reply, as Viktor moved to the bedside cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of lube, popping the top off and spreading the gel onto his fingers to warm it before coming back. Tingling anticipation followed the trail of wet fingers, as they lowered into the cleft of his cheeks and circled his rim.

Yuuri gasped, body writhing and hips bucking into the air to encourage Viktor further.

 _More, more, more_.

Finally, _finally_ , a finger pushed its way inside, moving in and out.

"Ah, _yes_ ," Yuuri moaned.

The finger briefly withdrew, Yuuri ready to protest at the loss, before another was added alongside it.

"Gorgeous."

Viktor spread and closed his fingers, taking his time to properly prepare Yuuri. He added another finger, opening him up further until he could barely take the building fire within him. Yuuri moaned and writhed beneath Viktor with every movement, calling his name, begging.

The fingers were removed, leaving Yuuri breathless and feeling empty. He heard Viktor pump more gel out of the bottle; opening his eyes, he watched Viktor seductively smearing it on himself.

When he was ready, Viktor lined himself up at Yuuri’s entrance and slowly pushed inside. The sensations of filling and being filled had them both moaning in unison, panting as Viktor waited for Yuuri to become accustomed to the feeling. Unable to wait any longer, Yuuri moved his hips and Viktor didn't hold back any longer.

He pulled all of the way out before slamming back in, causing Yuuri to cry out in pleasure and Viktor to growl.

"Perfect."

Viktor leant back, continuing to rock in and out of Yuuri. "And do you know what the best part is?" He spoke breathlessly.

Yuuri lifted his head and peered at the man before him, vision blurred with tears of bliss. "What's that, _Vitya_?" He panted.

Smiling, Viktor lifted up Yuuri's legs and pushed them into his chest so that his body was almost folded in half. He draped his body over Yuuri's, rhythmically pushing and pulling, and captured Yuuri in a searing kiss. He pulled away, so that his face was mere centimetres away from Yuuri's and he watched the most stunning smile adorn his fiancé.

He spoke as if the confession to come wasn't their worst kept secret from the world.

"I'm lucky enough to call you all mine." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support, comments, kudos and subscriptions, it means the world to me!  
> Me and my beta have been doing a lot of brainstorming for this story and there's a lot in store for you all, so enjoy the peace while it's here ;) (maniacal laughter) 
> 
> Translation:  
> Zolotse (Russian): My gold
> 
> Want to talk to me about fanfiction, anime, or just anything? Check out my social media:  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SakuraWindChime)  
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